Voldemort the Happy Bunny
by BandGeek58407
Summary: While going to check on a Horcrux, Voldemort takes a wrong turn and gets trapped in a super cheery parallel universe. Can the Dark Lord take the happiness? [Oneshot]


Welcome to the most random idea I have ever had.

Disclaimer: No, I'm not JK Rowling…oh, but if I was…

Voldemort the Happy Bunny 

It was a wonderful day: the sky was covered in folds of charcoal black clouds, rain poured down not just in sheets, but in blankets and pillowcases, and lightning dominated the skyline. It was the perfect day to be evil, and Voldemort loved every bit of it. The weather was impersonating his (what he thought was a) charming disposition, apart from the murdering and plotting and so forth. But that really didn't count in his mind. That was his job. Some people are professors and Healers; he's a criminal. Somebody's got to do it…after all, think of all the people that he alone would put out of work if he just turned himself into the Aurors. This was the justification in his mind.

To take advantage of his "evil day" (so he called it), Voldemort decided to visit his evil things, namely, a Horcrux or two. After stopping by to share and iced tea with dear Bellatrix, he was on his way to the scenic cave by the sea. The beautiful weather was accented by the rough seas, spraying foam onto his leathery pale skin that he worked so hard to maintain. (Bellatrix loves it, he thought with an evil grin, the only type of grin he still knew how to make.) His mind preoccupied with his heinous plans for the weeks ahead, he scarcely noticed that he took a wrong turn on the way to the lake. He _did_ noticed, however, once he walked through an unfamiliar door and into his own version of a living hell.

As soon as his eyes adjusted to the sudden change in light, he forced them shut again to prevent his iced tea from revisiting him. Everything was…colorful…colorful pastel shades of all sorts of happy colors…green, pink, purple, yellow—and everything was the wrong hue! The trees…some had freaking purple leaves! Voldemort stumbled backwards, towards the door he _knew_ he walked through, but the entrance had disappeared. _I'm stuck in HELL!_ His thoughts screamed as he tumbled to the ground and its freakish pastel pink grass.

"Oh goodness! 'Scuse me, sir, but would you be so kind as to stop squishing me?" squeaked a muffled voice coming from Voldemort's rear.

He peeled his eyelids apart and gazed around the sickening atmosphere. _If something lives here, it deserves to be murdered by my ass!_ And with smug indifference, he drove his victim even further into the grass, its screaming slowly fading. "Haha!" he exclaimed. "There's my evil deed for today!" Curiosity overtook him and forced him to hurry to discover whom he'd killed. His red eyes fell upon a little white daisy as he knelt beside its body, its yellow face maimed by his own derriere, eyes made of small x's, and its miniature pink tongue lolling about. It was rather disturbing.

And he knew disturbing. Hell, he was the definition, epitome even, of disturbing. Yet this dead, faced daisy made him experience the strangest sensation for the briefest time. A normal human being would have recognized it as guilt, but he knew nothing of it. The moment passed quickly and he was soon possessed by an evil chuckle.

"Hello, good sir!"

"AH!" Voldemort spun around, but seeing as he was on his knees, that just forced him back on his rear (and back on top of the poor little daisy), staring at another squeaky inhabitant of hell. _Stupid rabbit,_ he fumed.

"My name's Cotton Bunny! What's yours? You look like a Tom! Is your name Tom?" Cotton gazed at him with enormous blue eyes, her white furry body trembling with the force of her waggling stub of a tail, and her ecstatic grin thoroughly disturbing him (again…twice in two minutes…it's a record!).

"My name is not Tom, how ridiculous," Voldemort spat. "My name shall not be spoken. You may, however, call me 'Dark Lord.'"

"Dark Lord?" Cotton thought aloud, cocking her head to one side.

"OH NO!"

Cotton and Voldemort turned their attention to the pale green sky as the sun seemed to literally rush over to where they sat.

"OH NO! OH NO!"

"What is it, Mr. Sun?" Cotton asked with a grin.

"Why are you talking about darkness? It's so unhappy!" Mr. Sun's face crumpled dramatically as it looked alternately at each of them, taking no notice of Voldemort's flabbergasted and slightly disgusted expression at its words.

"My new friend brought it up," Cotton explained simply.

"Who?"

"His name's Tom," she whispered.

"MY NAME'S _NOT _TOM!" Voldemort yelled with obvious frustration. "And why, _why_ do you have a face?" he glared. "Suns do not have faces! That's so unnatural, and I should know…just ask me! I should know! Yeah, you see my unwrinkled skin? Botox, yeah, I use it! I went to Gene Simmons to find out where I could get myself a forked tongue! And don't even _ask_ me how I get my money made!"

Cotton grinned even larger and began to dance. "You make it rain, you make it rain, you make it rain on your—"

"Stop." Voldemort held up one finger. "I've heard that Muggle song before. And it's quite hard to believe that such a repulsively pure little rabbit like yourself could _ever_ utter the word 'ho.'" They stared at each other for a moment. "Now Bellatrix on the other hand, I'm quite sure that she could utter that word just as easily as you could utter 'rabbit,' seeing as you are one. I mean, really! The way she hangs all over me when she's got her own freaking husband…it's just embarrassing."

Mr. Sun and Cotton exchanged confused looks. "But…that word you said I couldn't say…do you mean…this?" Out of no where, she procured a garden hoe and held it up for all to see. Voldemort finally stood and searched Cotton for a pocket large enough to store such a large piece of equipment.

"Blast them and their confounded rabbit trickery!" he muttered under his breath as he subconsciously fingered his wand. "You!" he proclaimed, scaring Mr. Sun and Cotton half to death. "You and all your mismatched colors, talking daisies, and hip-hop literate rodents…or…" Voldemort paused, rethinking his wording. "…um, _rap_-literate rodents…y'know, to avoid the pun…" He cleared his throat and continued on his tirade. "This is the last day you will all live in this retched disturbing joyfulness that cannot be described as anything less but a less fiery, Satan-less _hell_! I will kill you all!!!" His red eyes ablaze with the evil that burned inside him, Voldemort pulled his wand from the folds of his black cloak and pointed it straight at Cotton.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" That would be the last time he'd ever have to deal with that insufferable furball.

"OH BOY!"

Or not.

"A carrot! I love carrots! They're my favorite! Thank you Tom!" Cotton, who was still very much alive, was latched onto some sort of orange extension from his wand and nibbling at it furiously. It couldn't be, of course not…why would he conjure up a carrot while performing the Killing Curse? It's completely absurd…it's impossible…

"CRUCIO!" Carrot.

"IMPERIO!" Carrot.

"REDUCTO!" Carrot.

"STUPEFY!" Carrot.

His greatest defense against the madness was gone. It was like a very large carrot-shaped lead weight had just fallen upon his shoulders. And seeing how lead is extremely heavy, the weight was too much, and the dear old Dark Lord collapsed unconscious.

"C'mon, Tom," Cotton whispered. "I'll take care of you."

OOO

"Just a bit further, Harry! Oho! I think I found the door!"

"Um…sir? Are you sure this is the way to the uh…Horcrux?" Harry trusted the wise old headmaster, but he was no fool; he knew Dumbledore's raging curiosity had the potential to create a problem or two. Little bells started going off in his head when Dumbledore found the "way" to the Horcrux so quickly. No dangerous obstacles, no creepy Dark Marks…not even a painting with the strange little eyes that follow people around. Nothing. This couldn't have been the passage.

And once the pastel hues overloaded their eyes, Harry realized he'd been right.

"Hmm…indeed, indeed," Dumbledore murmured as he inspected their surroundings. "Green sky, pink grass, purple trees—Harry?"

"Um, yes sir?"

Dumbledore faced him with a sort of confused frown and readjusted his glasses. "You didn't see Minerva tip any kind of date rape drug into my pumpkin juice tonight, did you? Because I'm afraid that this is why I'm seeing things, and it's happened before—"

"Too much information!" Harry interrupted before scarring mental images could start bombarding him. "I certainly hope that's not the case! I'm seeing the exact same thing you are, and I really do _not_ want to think if the meanings of that if your speculation is correct!"

"I understand, my boy, do not worry. Though unpleasant the thought may be, we must entertain it. After all, she does sit right next to me at the staff table and she is your Head of House. It would have been exceedingly simple for a woman as intelligent as herself."

"Can we please not talk about this, sir? It's making me uncomfortable." Harry side-glanced the headmaster and (to his relief) saw him grin with amusement.

"I would hope so. She _is_ your teacher." They stood beside each other tensely as their feet shifted uneasily on the pink grass. "On second thought, you can worry actually. The sun has a face. That's not good…can you see it?"

Harry stole a quick glance at the sun. "Yes, sir."

"Remember this, Harry. You know when you're completely wasted when the sun has a face. At that point, just put down the firewhiskey. Especially if Minerva's around," he added somewhat guiltily.

Harry nodded, not at all wanting to know about the headmaster's previous experience with hallucinations. It was such an unnerving thought, to say the least. He shuddered despite himself.

"Oh dearie me, Harry! Look over there! Please tell me I'm not hallucinating!"

So Harry looked. Even after rubbing his eyes, the image was still very much before them. And, Merlin it was frightening! But not in the usual Halloween-like ghost and vampire frightening. It was more along the lines of a disturbing frightening, like Professor Snape in a tutu. It was exactly like that: painful, yet at the same time hilarious to witness. "Professor, I'd laugh, but this…it's too much. I am far beyond the point of actual laughter."

Dumbledore allowed himself a chuckle. "He must have been stuck here for a great deal of time at the least. It's addled his brain."

"Yeah, Voldemort wouldn't be caught dead frolicking with a bunch of rabbits with a pink bow on his head otherwise."

If only Rita Skeeter could have been with them. Oh, the editorials that would have been written, the Quick-Quotes that would have been obtained! No Death Eater would have claimed they still swore allegiance to a Dark Lord who wore girlie decorative hair ornaments! All his support would have vanished. The course of history could have been changed in that very moment with just a photo or seven, but alas, even the most powerful wizard in the world lacks foresight every once in a while.

"Oh me, oh my, Cotton!" squealed the new Voldemort as he hopped impatiently around the other rabbit. "We're going to be so late to Darla Daffodil's tea party! What are we to do?" He subconsciously tugged at the bow that sat upon his ugly bald head.

"No worries, Tom!" Cotton declared. "Darla will not wait a second past seven o' clock! Let's go!" She bounced into the surrounding sherbet-orange thicket, obviously intending for Voldemort to follow.

But his eyes were glued in the opposite direction, toward Harry and Dumbledore. "Careful, Harry," Dumbledore whispered. "Upon seeing us, he may revert back to his former ways." The tension increased as they continued their staring contest with Dumbledore's wand already at the ready (but little did he know that if he resorted to a duel that they'd only be sending projectile carrots at each other).

"Boo," Harry finally yelled.

"AHHHHHH!!! It's Harry Potter!" shrieked Voldemort. "Don't kill me, I beg of you, I'm just a wee little bunny!" He shrunk back towards the thicket and cowered in agonizing fear.

"I could get used to this," Harry said with a large grin. But instead of sending Voldemort running, his taunting (if you could even call it that) had rooted him to the spot. "Go on." He nudged Dumbledore. "Scare him. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity."

It was about time to take advantage of his gnarled blackened hand, "Grar!" he shouted as viciously as he could, shaking the withered limb in what he hoped was a frightening manner.

"AH! NO! DON'T HURT ME ALBUS!" Voldemort's cries slowly faded into the distance as he bounded into the thicket in hopes of catching up with Cotton.

"Well, that was some good fun!" Dumbledore grinned. "Now, time to find that Horcrux!" He went back to the door (which he'd had enough sense to prop open), but stopped when Harry hadn't moved. "What is it, my boy?"

"Well, since we didn't have the foresight to capture or kill him earlier…I was thinking…did that prophecy about us…the one about neither can live while the other survives?" He paused to scratch his head. "If Voldemort was stuck in this parallel universe, does that count as being dead? You know, since he's not 'surviving' in our world."

Dumbledore frowned. "Excellent point. You should become a lawyer, Harry. Let me consult the prophecy itself." He dug around in a robe pocket and pulled out his wizardPod Touch.

"Wow, Professor! How'd you get one of those? They're not supposed to be on sale until this August! Wh-what sort of stuff do you have on there?" Harry slowly reached over Dumbledore's shoulder to take the wizardPod, but got his hand slapped. "Ow."

"It's _my_ music player, Harry. I have some useful information, like spells, prophecies and so forth, plus the entire soundtrack to the film 'Moulin Rouge.' That song…'El Tango de Roxanne'…it's incredibly catchy. I'll tell you, I walked around the corridors singing the lyrics and I almost got slapped by Professors Sinastra, Sprout, as well as Hagrid. They always missed the beginning of the verse, so they thought I was talking about them." He laughed. "Like I'd really believe they were prostitutes!"

Harry stared at him. "Sir, the prophecy—"

"Right, right…" Dumbledore scrolled through the list of items, finally settling on the prophecy. It played through normally, but it didn't end after it usually did.

"Some restrictions apply. Results may vary. Sibyll Trelawney and Prophecy, Co. are not responsible for any errors made due to the ambiguity of the prediction—"

"Voldemort actually tried suing them after the whole 'trying to kill you' thing backfired," Dumbledore interjected.

"—offer limited while supplies last. Terms and conditions are only applicable when not in a parallel universe."

Silence followed, the only sounds being a sigh or two of Mr. Sun's. "That was oddly specific," Harry muttered.

"Anything is if you look close enough!" Dumbledore exclaimed happily. "Well, aren't we all glad we don't have to worry about _him_ any longer!" They both half-skipped to the door. "Let's head home, Harry, and we can raid Severus' office for sweets! He always has a huge stash!"

"Yes," Harry grinned. "Let's!"

OOO

Hope you enjoyed! And…(you know who you are), mentioning "Tango" was for you. I almost had him whip out a trombone and play the solo…but…that's just too unrealistic, even for me. Haha…oh dear. Woo…and this is for everyone: don't forget to review and tell me what you thought!


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